“Promise me that you’ll jerk off to me.”
It was an interesting request. Then again, “Siobhan” is an interesting girl.
A self-described twentysomething “hippie floozy” with curly red hair, she was on tour from New England. Siobhan was surprisingly soft spoken and shy at first. I had secured an appointment with her after seeing her posts on Twitter. As dusk settled on the city outside her hotel room windows, she opened up about her interests: gardening, sci-fi, political activism. And smut. (She quizzed me on what types of porn I consume.) She’s a practicing pagan, and she was curious as to my thoughts on her religious practices. (A form of interreligious dialogue, I suppose.) She grew more effervescent as our conversation progressed. She talked about her girlfriend and bondage. Meanwhile I anticipated the moment when she would remove her black skirt.
Finally the moment came. I unbuttoned my shirt and unzipped my pants. She pulled down her black panties and revealed a glorious red bush. My throbbing hard-on signaled that it needed attention. She positioned herself on her knees in front of me. A passionate, sloppy blowjob ensued. Then we migrated to the bed, where she straddled me. Her hairy cunt engulfed my cock. My explorations in paid promiscuity have enabled me to sexually experience a vast variety of women. I’ve developed an erotic palette for different textures, sights, smells, sounds (and even tastes). All my senses are engaged when I’m with a woman. Now as Siobhan rode me, I was wholly engaged in the act, except for the random thought that as civilization bustled around us, we were keeping faith with that primal nature that can’t be civilized.
And, yes, I since have jerked off to her.
Lutheran Guilt 